Of Pictures and Flannel Babies
by Hikaru6588
Summary: "You were a flannel baby. An adorable flannel baby. With dimples." He added, turning the page and looking at another picture with a smiling little Kurt. "Oh my God, you were too adorable for everyone's sake."  Klaine   To Jennie for her birthday.


_Ok, first English story. _

_I don't really know what to say. Probably I should say something hilarious or witty, but the truth is I'm kinda nervous, so let's pretend I did it and go on, ok? :3_

_Thanks to Savannah for being the amazing beta she was: this story would've been a mess without your help, dear. You're awesome :3_

_Kinda inspired from this (http : / daxterdd . tumblr . com / post / 17546460313 / leeminkyo-babies-klaine-sketch-because-all-that) post on Tumblr and the tag underneath (that's amazing). _

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Klaine or Glee. If anyone felt like buy their right for me, thought, my birthday is on May the 6th. I won't complain if they don't have a ribbon, I swear. :3_

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><p><em>To Jennie, for her birthday (even if it's a little late =P).<em>

_I love you, sweety. (And yes, you have a proof now. But it's part of your present too, so…)_

_Happy 20th birthday :3_

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><p><strong>Of Pictures and Flannel Babies<strong>

One of the many things Blaine never though would happen to him was the concrete chance to bond with his boyfriend's father.

Not that he wasn't happy to talk with Burt in the Hudmel kitchen after a quiet dinner between the three of them while Carole and Finn were out together – he wasn't an idiot, _thankyouverymuch_. It just never occurred to him that it could actually _happen_. Like, really. Over _his boyfriend_.

"I swear, Blaine, he was the most spoiled kid ever!" Burt was saying, laughing. "He would see, I don't know, a shining pair of shoes, or glasses, or- whatever, they just had to be sparkly and, you know, pretty, and he would began to pout, widening those big, blue eyes, and BAM!, his mother would've done anything in her power to give them to him. He could've asked the moon, I'm not kidding. He had her wrapped around his little finger, I swear." He laughed again, patting his son on the back, probably causing him to lose a lug. At least.

"Only his mother, I'm sure," he said, rubbing his back smoothly and grinning in his direction. Kurt sent him a glare, but he was having too much fun teasing him to really care. For now, at least. Burt shrugged.

"Guilty." He said, eyeing his son with a warm smile. "I was probably even worse than his mom. I think the cashier in that shop is still judging me for the sparkly pair of heels I bought him for his third birthday."

Kurt blushed slightly, averting his eyes, the table suddenly very interesting; adorable, in Blaine's totally _unbiased_ opinion.

"Sparkly?"

"Completely covered in bright, pink sequins. I think I still have them somewhere. He loved them so much, always trotting around the house in them, that even once he grew up I've never had the heart to throw them away."

"Oh God, please, tell me you have photos."

Burt open his mouth to reply, and Kurt whined.

"Come on, dad, can't you change the subject here? I am not _that_ interesting, and if it's _me_ saying that, it's true. I'm sure you have some football game you want to talk about with someone who will honestly enjoy what you're saying? I'm sure Blaine is getting bored and he'll love to. Please?"

Blaine laughed, ignoring Kurt's glare once more.

"You concern is cute, Kurt, but don't worry about me. I swear, there's nothing I'd love to talk about more than you and your baby stories. No game could be more entertaining, believe me. Besides," he added, arching one his eyebrows eloquently. "You got to see _photos_ of a really naked one year old me thanks to Cooper. I think this is only fair." Kurt snorted and looked away, offended.

"Oh, please, it's not. You were an adorable, big hazel eyes, curly head that wore bowties and tiny, stylish suspenders even then…"

"Thanks to my brother. I was his only and favorite doll."

"_Adorable_. While now we are listening to how I was a spoiled little brat. Hardly the same."

Blaine had already opened his mouth to reply when Burt interjected.

"You know what, kiddo? You're right. It's not fair at all."

"Thanks dad. Now, if we-"

"In fact, I think I have exactly what we need to even the field for you, Blaine."

"Wait, what?"

Blaine eyed them warily, confused.

"Uhm, thanks?" he tried, arching an eyebrow. Burt patted his knee and got up. He fixed his cap, grim playing on his face.

"Just trust me, kid. Be back in a minute." Called over his shoulder, waving distractly with his hand. Blaine followed him with his eyes until he was out of the kitchen, then he turned to his boyfriend.

"Does this mean that I get to see pi-?"

He stopped, noticing the way Kurt was looking at him: his eyes were intense, studying, and there was a smirk playing on his face that sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed, while Kurt's arms reached out to circle his neck and pull him forward.

"Kurt, I don't think it's a really good idea," he tried, eyeing those arms with a worry that wouldn't have been there normally. He swallowed again while Kurt started lightly nuzzling his neck. "Your dad is in the other room, and he'll be back anytime soon, and he'll probably kill me and-" His boyfriend stopped in his task to nip delicately at that spot under his jaw that sent his willpower to Hell every. Single. Time.

"You talk to much, you know?" murmured Kurt in his hear, breath ghosting on the shell; Blaine gripped at the chair when he felt a little nib on the lobe. "We haven't be really alone for days and you want to lose the chance when we get it? I must be really, really boring…" he trailed off, tracing the lines of his arm with a finger, the touch barely noticeable. Blaine was having an hard time to focus on _why_ he couldn't jump his boyfriend right there and then.

"Kurt… Your dad is…"

"Then let's ditch him." He sucked lightly at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder, and Blaine moaned quietly, moving a hand to squeeze at his tight. "Your house is empty now, right? We could go there, and then I could show you just how much I've missed you this week…"

Blaine could just nod, eyes shut and whatever grain of reason long lost 'cause, you see, when Kurt Hummel was_ purring_ like that in your ear, saying those things to you, you couldn't deny him _anything_. You can believe it, Blaine knew it first hand. Right now, for example, he was simply lost.

Baby penguin his ass.

He could feel Kurt' smile on his neck, while he added: "Well then, just tak-"

"FOUND IT!"

The scream came from the other side of the house, but it was all it took to shove Blaine out of his haze and jerk away from Kurt.

"Shit," he heard him say. He glanced at his boyfriend, and he frowned: Kurt seemed more worried than upset, but that didn't make any sense. It wasn't like Burt had caught them or-

_Oh_.

Blaine smirked, arms crossed on his chest.

"Seriously, Kurt? Just for some baby photos?"

Kurt glared at him but didn't reply.

"Oh God, now I really, _really_ want to see them. They must be something else if you were trying to _seduce_ me with your dad in the other room just to get away with them."

"It was working. It would've worked if Dad hadn't-"

"Hadn't what, kiddo?" Burt came in with an old photo book in his hands, a unsure look on his face. Blaine smirked at Kurt before facing the man with an innocent smile on his face.

"Nothing at all. I was just saying that I literally can't wait to see what you have for me. I'm sure I'll love it." He finished, sending another smirk in Kurt's direction. His boyfriend frowned, and kicked his shin under the table; Blaine stuck out his tongue in return.

How mature of them, yeah.

Chuckling, Burt sat next to Blaine and turned towards him.

"These are photos of Kurt from age one to age two, before his fashion sense kicked in and I had to stop dressing him myself."

"Wait, what do you mean 'myself'?" Blaine asked, eyeing his boyfriend's father with shock. Burt grinned and opened the book, pushing it towards him. Blaine stretched his neck to take a look: there was a single picture in the center of the page, a very tiny and cute Kurt, looking confused to the camera with his thumb in the mouth and a (way too big) flannel shirt and a baseball cap on.

Blaine looked at Kurt, mouth agape, and he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. My. God. You were a flannel baby." He stated with disbelief. Burt laughed loudly, Kurt just started to stare at his nails.

"You were a flannel baby. An adorable flannel baby. With dimples." He added, turning the page and looking at another picture with a smiling little Kurt. "Oh my God, you were too adorable for everyone's sake."

"There's a reason we did everything he wanted." Burt interject. "He knew how much power he had on us, and he wasn't afraid to use it."

"You were like a kitten. A flannel baby with a kitten personality." He blinked at Kurt, who arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "Oh God, you were a flannel baby kitten."

"You're ridiculous." Was the only comment that Kurt made, looking like he was physically restrain himself from getting up and burn the thing himself. Then he moved his eyes to his father and glared. "And you. You're a… a… traitor. I'll never cook for you again. _Never_. And I'll bribe Carole into not to neither."

Blaine chuckled and started to turn the pages, still laughing, stopping every now and then on a particular cute baby Kurt.

"I don't understand why I didn't know anything about this early flannel phase before." Kurt lift an eyebrow and Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yeah, ok, maybe I do. But you were so damn cute," He went back to the first one and smiled at it fondly. "You sure pulled off the Mellencamp look." He added, gaining a kick on the shin by his boyfriend.

"Yeah. Sure." Kurt deadpanned, eyes narrowed. "Just for the record, it was all my dad. I'd attempted more than once to burn every single one of those horrible shirts before I could even understand what a shirt really was."

"True. I thought those were accidents at the time, thought. I mean, how could I have known that my only child was a pyromaniac before he started speaking?"

"I wasn't. I just had _taste_, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," Burt rolled his eyes and Blaine chuckled before ghosting his fingers on the photo. There were a couple of seconds of silence, then:

"You can have it if you want, you know."

Blaine lift his head and look at Kurt with wide eyes; he just rolled his eyes and started to stare at his nails, unimpressed.

"What?"

Silence; Blaine glanced again at the photo. Saying he was tempted it was an understatement: baby photos always had a soft spot in his heart and this… well, this was _Kurt's_. Enough said.

"Take it. You look like a kicked puppy that have just found a new plastic bone to play with and to love forever. Take it." Kurt repeated, sighing. "But I want the one of you taking a bath at six months. You won't be the only one with blackmail material, Anderson."

Blaine stared at him, astonished for a couple of seconds before returning his attention to the book. He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling softly. He could feel the smile on Kurt's lips and, if it were even possible, it made him fall in love with his boyfriend even more.

"Thank you." He said, slipping it in his wallet. "I'll treasure it."

"You better." Kurt concluded, before getting up and heading out the room. "And call Cooper. I want yours as soon as I'll take you home tonight." He called, and Blaine laughed again: best boyfriend _ever_.

* * *

><p>Some years later, a four years old Elizabeth Anderson-Hummel opened his Papa's wallet, wondering what he was hiding in it 'cause, seriously, it wasn't possible that he treasured that thing so much just for some green pieces of paper, right? Even if they've bought her his Puffy, who was the best plush on Earth <em>ever<em>.

She looked at every single compartment she found, and she was already getting bored with it when, apparently out of nowhere, a piece of something came out, floating until it reached the floor.

Liz picked it up, looking at the baby boy in it with confusion. She run out the room, the wallet forgot on the table and the photo in her little hand.

"Daddy! Papa!" she screamed, entering in the kitchen where Daddy was cooking their dinner while Papa was talking about last test he gave at his students that day – or something boring like that anyway.

She ran to her Papa, wrapping her arms around his legs before looking up at him.

"Papa! When did Uncle Finn have a baby? And why haven't I met him yet? Why?"

"Uh, what?" he asked, and she watched one of his curls fall in his eyes when he tilted his head confused. She scoffed, stepped back and waved the photo.

"Here! It was in your wallet and he's wearing flannel, and that's icky 'cause Daddy always say so, and Uncle always wears flannel, so he must be his baby!" the rush of words was so fast that Papa blinked a couple of times and she snorted, crossing her arms on her chest. "I have another cousin that I didn't know about! Why?"

And then something had to click in her Papa head, 'cause he burst in laughs. Gosh, he was so frus- frustrate-_frustrating_ sometimes. Whatever that meant, anyway. She was only _four _after all, but Daddy always said that, and Daddy was always right, even Papa thought that, so it must have been true.

In the meantime, Daddy had stopped cooking and was peeking over her shoulder at the photo. He sighed, rolling his eyes. What…?

"Seriously, Blaine? After all this time?"

Papa stopped laughing to look fondly at him, a thing that never stopped to amazed Liz, 'cause seriously, she had the fluffiest dads ever. Even Callie, her best friend in the whole world thought that.

"Always." He smiled, then he focused on Liz again.

"This isn't your new, hidden cousins. Do you know who is this?"

She shook her head, a sparkle in her eyes that matched her Papa's in that exact moment.

"Blaine-" Daddy warned, but he ignored him.

"Wait for it, Liz: that's Daddy when he was a baby!"

"No way!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. Daddy sighed. "But he's wearing _flannel_!" She hoped she had used the exact tone of voice Daddy always used in cases like this; she still had trouble doing that sometimes. Daddy's perfection was hard to archive, but he always said that she was good like he was at her age. And _a_ _half_.

Papa sat at the table, picking her up and setting her in his lap. Daddy glared at him, mouthing something about the couch that didn't really make sense for her so, you know, whatever, but Papa ignored him again and looked directly at her with complicity.

"You know, Liz, this is a funny story when you think about it. When we were in high school…"


End file.
